Adrian stared at the papers, hands shaking. The heart monitor spiked.

A doctor rushed over, but he waved them off, clutching his chest. "Babe, I swear I won't touch your money again. I'll give you my whole paycheck, okay?"

I didn't flinch. "Keep it. I want the divorce."

Monica snapped. She stormed over and slapped me. "How can you be this heartless? My son's in the hospital because of you—and all you want is a divorce? What's wrong with you? Is your heart stone?"

I exhaled, touched the stinging side of my face. "He's not my responsibility."

When I didn't budge, Sarah rushed in to hold up the shaky Monica.

"Raelyn, seriously—what's wrong with you? Say it in front of everyone. Why are you divorcing him? I don't believe you're this cold."

I met her stare and laughed—sharp and humorless—then slapped her across the face.

"Whether I'm cold or not? None of your business. Maybe focus on your own mess before coming for mine."

She froze, stunned, eyes filling fast.

Monica lunged again, but I barely pushed her—and she stumbled back a few steps.

That's when Adrian's coworkers finally cracked. One of them, Peter, stepped up.

"What kind of person are you? No respect for your in-laws, your husband's brother's widow? Adrian's done nothing but treat you like gold—and you want a divorce over VITAMINS? Seriously?"

I glanced at him. "And how is that your business? You done with your own job? Maybe go worry about your wife and kids instead of playing hero in someone else's mess."

A few of Adrian's work buddies puffed up, clearly ready to pile on.

"Adrian's a great guy. How'd he end up with some cold, gold-digging woman like you? You even know he's about to get promoted? His salary's about to blow up!"

"Forget it, Adrian. Just dump her. Let her regret it for the rest of her life."

I let out a cold laugh. "Relax. I won't regret a thing."

That's when Donald snapped. He glared at me. "Fine! Divorce it is! Our family doesn't want you anyway!"

He reached for the papers.

But my dad stepped in, blocking him.

With an awkward smile, he said, "Donald, don't be mad. She's just acting out. We all know what's right. Don't worry—I'm here, and I'm not letting her divorce. I'll take her home and straighten her out."

Then he grabbed my hand and tried to drag me away.

I yanked my arm free. "I said I'm not leaving. This divorce is happening, and none of you are stopping it!"

My dad—used to never being told no—lost it. He slapped me so hard I hit the floor.

"You think I can't control you? Go through with this, and we're done. Don't call us your parents ever again!"

The papers flew everywhere.

Eyes burning, I clenched my jaw. "Fine. If none of you are with me, then we're done here."

I bent down and started gathering the divorce papers.

The next second, my dad shoved me—again. I stumbled.

He snatched the papers off the floor and glared. "I'll rip this up right now. Enough with the divorce talk!"

Panic hit me fast. I lunged. "No! Don't! Dad, please—just let me explain—"

But then he froze.

Mid-tear, his hands stopped. His eyes locked onto a few extra pages that had gotten clipped in.

His face went pale. That towering, always-unshakable frame wobbled.

He looked between me and Adrian, eyes wide.